


Enjoy the Silence

by MsSchneeheide



Series: P*ssy Music [4]
Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Depeche Mode References, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSchneeheide/pseuds/MsSchneeheide
Summary: Half a day here and there (and then somewhere else) for Flaritza - and some friends. Sometimes words are very unnecessary.
Relationships: Blanca Flores & Dario "Diablo" Zuniga, Marisol "Flaca" Gonzales/Maritza Ramos
Series: P*ssy Music [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592911
Kudos: 1





	Enjoy the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Rushmore Ruffians" and inspired by the Depeche Mode song, yes; but also, at some point there's rain, and of its own volition "La pioggia nel pineto" came out and something odd happened, and possibly terrifying if you know the original poem; and there's so much music in it, it's an incredibly beautiful lyric by D'Annunzio, which you are strongly advised to read or, even better, listen to, if you can grasp a little bit of Italian.

Thanks to its utter lack of recreational equipment, sports courts or any other facilities really, that corner of Harlem River Park was relatively quiet, even though it was a Saturday.

Kids tended to gravitate towards other areas, and their families with them; so did youngsters.

There were some people relaxing on benches or sprawled on the lawn, scattered around, and minding their own business.

They were doing just the same. Lying on an old fake pashmina shawl, being lazy.

After bringing the girls to the cinema, a common weekend ritual, they’d decided to stay out some more. It was such a nice, warm day, and the last of summer wouldn’t linger on forever.

Her head fell to the right, which let her see the little group not too far away, but still distant enough not to be heard in their full shrieking glory anymore - ah, bliss.

Close around them a microcosm of ants and other purposeful tiny creatures moved in the grass, visible just if you focused on the immediate foreground inches from your nose, but that was like an old pre-talking pictures movie, frenetic activity conducted silently.

“iMira! ¿No son unas changuitas?”

“Pero en el parque... ¿Se habrán escapado del zoo?” a male and a female voice had said.

“Diablo!” Juliana turned and shouted, running the few steps that separated them.

“Blanca!” echoed Isla, who had followed closely behind.

“Hey, you two.”

“Hola mamis,” the four adult friends, standing in the middle of the walkway, smiled at each other.

But “Heyy,” Juliana protested, tugging at Diablo; she had not forgotten the previous address “We’re not monkeys!”

“No?” he ruffled her hair. “Look at this!”

“Sí…” Blanca replied, “dos changuitas directly from Bronx Zoo.”

Isla giggled, swinging the woman’s hand back and forth.

Juliana grumbled, uselessly trying to smooth over her big mass of curls. “I’m the most beautiful girl in the whole world, just like my mom,” she declared, at which the aforementioned parent smirked proud.

“Children always speak the truth,” she whispered in an aside to Blanca.

“Oh really?” the Dominican’s brows lifted to Maritza. “And who said that, Juliana?”

“My mom.” Flaca’s eyes rolled. 

They’d all got ice cream and walked, or jumped, and hopped, and bounced around while they finished it.

Then the girls had found some other kids with a ball to play with, and Blanca and Diablo had offered to supervise them and give their friends a bit of respite. Those two big softies loved children and were finally seriously trying for one; but before a baby came, they didn’t mind the casual practice. And there they were now, Blanca occasionally scowling and frequently laughing along with Diablo, who sported a serene expression at the proceedings of whatever made-up game Juli and Isla & Co. were at.

She looked away and to the other side, lips upturned. Sure enough, Maritza was half-sat facing westward, legs and arms out in front of her, lids closed, intent on absorbing the last sun rays of the day.

She lightly punched her hip. The smaller woman opened an eye. “Sup?”

Flaca patted the space beside her, and Maritza immediately shot up. “But Flac! I need to work on my tan!”

Her friend gave her a pointed look; she checked her exposed bits and the taller one’s angle, and with a sigh slipped down next to her.

“Fine,” she conceded. After all, it would be impossible to deny that her skin tone was already perfection itself.

But - _uggh_.

Mh… she squirmed.

More itching...

"Aah!" Maritza darted up, all wiggly, limbs flailing and scratching with her hands. "What was _that_?"

"What??" Flaca sat up too, alarmed, checking for injuries -

"That!" Maritza gestured vaguely - "...THAT!" she pointed at something on the shawl.

"Wha…" Flaca's recon stopped on the small dot. 

.

.

.

"You fuckin' serious."

"What? What is it??"

"- - - It's a friggin' ladybug, you dumbass."

…

"Oh. I’d never seen a yellow one." Crinkles appeared on Maritza's forehead, as she bent to have a better perspective. "It's cute!" she beamed.

"Oh for…" Flaca lay back down muttering something, eyes closing.

"Mmh. I thought it was a cockroach or something," she explained.

"There's no cockroaches in parks. They only live in restaurants."

"Oh. Good."

The other blindly grabbed her T-shirt and pulled, and Maritza woke from the hypnosis the insect had her under.

She settled again, nearer the centre of their makeshift blanket.

“Mh-mh,” Flaca hummed contentedly. Maritza could feel the vibration in the shoulder she was practically leaning against; maybe giving up the optimal sun-orientation for some relaxing moments like this, near her… her… near Flaca, wasn’t a bad trade off.

* * *

Whether in fluffy leavened cotton-candy white, or stretching thin like too little color on canvas, random figures flew by. From the tree canopies on the left, mere green patches at the very edge of their peripheral vision, long wavy lines and thicker shapes entered their little world: a weird canine dragon like that _Neverending Story_ one, two ugly hot dogs melting into ufos, a cartoonish bearded man on a throne crossed the light blue expanse and passed in metamorphosing cloud disguise over their sightline, disappearing into the vague grassy horizon to the right.

The air was tepid and sweet with an earthy smell - it had rained that night -, the soundtrack muted.

A diminutive form plopped down beside them.

"Ha! Hihihi…" she giggled as they engaged in a tickle fight. "Stop! Hee… stop…"

And when they stopped, all three just lay there some more.

Aah. Full heart, and lightness at the same time, electricity in her every fiber and a tumultuous peace in her heart.

She yawned jokingly, grinning, and stretched out above the others' heads, pulling them closer.

All she'd ever wanted, all she'd ever needed was there, in her arms.

* * *

“What a fuckin’ mess!” she dropped back heavily onto the bench.

“Mmh…” Diablo was laughing, even with his hair being pulled by an enthusiastic piggyback-riding Isla. “ _You_ gotta be the bad cop, ‘cuz _he_ sure as hell won’t.”

“Mierda,” Blanca grumbled. “Kid’s gonna have him all wrapped around their little finger.” She absentmindedly rubbed her belly.

“Yup,” Maritza confirmed flippant; then startled.

“Giddap! C’mon horsey!” Juliana spurred on, pressing her heels into her own mount’s ribs, heedless of the fact that her hands covering Flaca’s face and not letting her see might not be particularly helpful to their cause.

“Neeeeigh!” Flaca indulged her.

Maritza sprung up and “Juliana! Flaca!” she yelled, shooting them a withering look.

 _Uh-oh_ , the two seemed to freeze with a thought bubble over their heads, and a _CAUGHT_ sign all over them.

Sheepish, they nodded and went on in a somewhat more orderly fashion. But the race had been lost.

Isla and Diablo high-fived, then the girls scampered off to the red swing set, while Diablo and Flaca paused to breathe by the littleleaf linden tree.

“Coño,” Blanca sighed. “We’re gonna be just like you and Flaca.”

“Pff,” Maritza crossed her arms, frowning.

* * *

It was getting colder.

She shuddered, rubbing her arms.

Pink tones in the sky, sunset show was on, and reflected by the river below.

Just three boats were sailing one way or the other, and the water lapped gently against their hulls; on the bridge to the south, the faint _vroom_ of cars coming into Manhattan.

The girls were telling their friends about the movie, and attempting to recreate the protagonist's thick braid on Diablo. Soon it'd be time to go; Flaca and Maritza turned and leaned on the railing, taking in the moment.

"Haah," she exhaled, content.

The smaller woman hummed, then shuddered again at a stronger gust of wind hitting her from the side. _Brrr_. Darn, she has forgotten the jacket in her car.

Flaca retrieved the shawl from her bag and put it around her shoulders.

"It was on the ground!" Maritza protested, all the same tightening her hold on the piece of cloth. "And we put our butts on it."

"Ssh," Flaca waved off and turned to facing the waterfront. "Trivial."

"Mkay," her friend conceded, leaning back next to her.

It was really, really time to go. "This is nice," Maritza murmured.

"Mh-mh. Enjoy the silence."

Their arms brushed as they stretched forward some more, smiling.

* * *

At the Mendozas’ the evening was in full swing.

The girls had been helped prepare Isla's room for the sleepover by Lourdes. Now, bent on reenacting _Aladdin_ for the family’s benefit, they were busy collecting supplies.

"Ask them to send the cute guy, not that pimple-faced one," Cecilia told her sister.

"Yo, and get some beers!" added Gloria. "We're almost out."

"Yeah, yeah… Anything else ladies? - Pff." Elena went to find her phone.

As Maritza approached, she glared at her suspicious. "What?"

"Take a veggie pizza too," Maritza whispered. "And a Margherita or something."

"Wh… she still tryna…"

"Mh-mm," Maritza assented.

"...Wait, _you_ 're not gonna be a vegan too right?" Elena asked alarmed.

"P-lease, it's hard enough with just _Flaca_ tryin' to hide it from Juli," Maritza snorted.

"Why's she hiding it?"

"She says she's too young to decide and she doesn't wanna influence her," she shrugged, but cast an affectionate glance at her friend, who was helping Gloria take down a box of costumes from a higher shelf. Well, it was true that Juli would probably want to imitate Flaca if she knew, like she often did.

Elena stopped her typing and observed too.

"She's good." If only Isla's father had been half the parent Flaca was.

"Mh."

In the end, the pimple-faced delivery boy had come, much to Cecilia's dismay. But he had brought enough beers to make her happy.

She passed another bottle to her mother.

"Who's that again?" Gloria asked Flaca, surreptitiously, gesturing at her tiara-wearing granddaughter.

"I'm not sure… can't be Jasmine, that was Juli before."

"Weren't you at the cinema too?" she frowned.

"I thought so, but now I'm starting to question myself." Flaca didn't remember quite that many princesses in the movie, and certainly no unicorns.

"It's the phosphorus, I tell you, nena," Lourdes suggested. "You gotta take it from somewhere if not the fish, y'know."

"Sí… I'll think about it."

Juliana popped up from behind the couch with a purple turban on, and Isla feigned surprise.

"You! I…" she stopped, as the badly tied towel started to get loose and fall on Juliana's nose.

"Princess!" Juliana fumbled. "I…" But she couldn't keep it in either, and they succumbed to the giggles.

Maritza watched them lovingly. She grabbed another pizza slice from the carton, took a bite, and a crinkle appeared between her brows.

Flaca was up to the kitchen table and back in a jiffy, to hand her the red pepper flakes bottle.

("God, _whipped_ ," Cecilia shook her head.)

Maritza's gaze brightened as she took it and they exchanged a warm smile.

Cecilia let out a whine. "Not the heart eyes!"

"Cállate," Lourdes kicked her shin.

"Ouch! Tía!"

Gloria gave her a menacing glare of her own, and Cecilia huffed. "Ok, fine."

The play resumed for a bit, but the two girls couldn't agree on who should do and say what most of the time, so it ended soon. They began leafing through the coloring book they'd got earlier, while the adults sat there on couches, chairs and sofa chatting some.

Around ten Juli was showing the first signs of tired restlessness, and Maritza decided it was better to leave the joys of two ready-for-bed-but-unwilling-to-admit-it kids to her friends.

"Traitor," Elena hissed.

"Excuse me,” she countered, “I don’t recall you staying at mine to tuck them in the other week.”

“She’s ruthless!” Elena appealed to Flaca, who raised her hands surrendering.

“I don’t know nothing.”

The whole greeting part took some time, and when they finally left they ran into Gloria’s sons on the stairs, just back from their friend’s house.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey,” Julio scratched the scruff of his neck. “...Oh no, it’s kindergarten night?”

“Yup! You’re just in time for the best,” Maritza smirked.

“Shit…,” Benito appeared dejected, then straightened up. “Wait. What if we joined you girls? I promise you the best fun you’ve had in ages,” he wiggled his brows.

Maritza burst into raucous laughter, Flaca’s eyes rolled playfully and Julio flushed, even though it was an old joke between them by now.

“Sorry Benny, online RPGs are not her thing,” Flaca answered.

“Yeah, what she said,” her friend nodded, and took her by the arm.

“Oh, fine,” he shrugged and grinned.

“Enjoy your Saturday boys!”

“We’ll sure enjoy ours!” Maritza added, and they cackled as they disappeared from sight.

“Bye… Darn…” Benny grumbled, “...hot.”

Julio heaved a sigh and pulled his sleeve. “C’mon man, there could be some pizza left.”

“Right!” Benito lit up. “Race you to it!” and he started rushing up the stairs two at a time.

“Yo, not fair!” his brother yelled, and took off after him.

* * *

When they got to the Ramos' apartment, the rain situation had got serious.

“Fuck!” Maritza dropped her soaked denim jacket on the floor and considered her reflection in the mirror at the entrance. “Well, at least my hair is okayish.”

“Hmpf," a dripping Flaca mumbled. The not-pashmina thingie hadn't helped much against the wrath of Zeus.

"Zeus what?" her friend turned. "Flac!"

"What?" she kicked her shoes to the corner.

"You're making a puddle. Strip," Maritza ordered, shimming out of top and shorts herself.

"- yeah…" she paused.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," the small underwear-clad bossy Colombian huffed, hands on her hips. "What's with the shyness?"

"Mh," Flaca shrugged, and started taking off her socks with infuriating slowness.

Maritza regarded her for a moment, lips pursed, then gave up.

"...I swear to God," and she stormed to the bathroom, slamming the door. Opened it again, tossed Flaca a towel.

"Imma take a shower. MOVE!"

 _Slam_.

When after a bit the water started running Flaca discarded shorts and tee, wrapping the bath sheet around herself. She inspected the modest-sized living room/kitchen area. "Now where… ah!" There it was, the whole reason they'd got back in the first place. She shot a message to her brother Marco on possibly staying out, and put the phone back on the counter.

The rain got even stronger, its sound barely distinguishable from the shower.

Mx. Tawney and LaFontaine, Juliana's funfair-won goldfish, were swimming in their tank by the window. "Hey you two," Flaca greeted. "Still alive mh? Lookin' good," she moved her index against the glass, trying to catch their attention.

"You found your phone?" Maritza appeared with a fluffy bathrobe on, brushing her hair.

"Yeah, it's there," Flaca motioned vaguely.

"Mh." She disappeared again, still talking. "You wanted to go to Bad Karma or something?"

"Hell no, did you see what's happening out there?"

Maritza peeked. "Uops."

"Why, _you_ wanted to go out?" Flaca turned from the fish and window.

"Not really," and back in she went.

"OK." Blanca would be working there, as usual, and Diablo's friends were playing, but she was just too beat. Besides, they went there all the time.

"A'right, all yours," Maritza announced, and Flaca took possession of the bathroom. "Did you text home?"

"Mh-m."

"'kay" She left her friend to do her thing and went to find her hydrating night cream. "And dry your hair or you're gonna get a cold!"

"Yes, _mom_ ," she said sarcastic, and turned on the faucet.

Maritza put on her blue nightie and rummaged through the drawers some more.

Then she stood by the sofa, big T-shirt for Flaca in her arms, and looked out. It didn't show any signs of stopping. The street was a lake already, very occasional cars cautiously driving by, and one or two people rushing to find shelter; drops were noisily pattering the window pane.

It took her mind a while to register the transition from the _shhshhshh_ of the shower to a low _bzzzzzzz_.

About to push the slightly ajar door open, her hand stilled on the jamb.

Flaca was standing askew in front of the mirror, mussing her hair with one hand while holding the blow dryer in the other, in her black panties and bra.

Her gasp went unheard. It wasn’t the luscious curves of her friend that made Maritza pause - well, that was it, at first, but almost immediately her glance was drawn to a lighter line on her abdomen, travelling vertically and circling her belly-button. She hadn’t known about it. _Why_ hadn’t she known? 

It was pretty big, and certainly stood out against her naturally caramel skin, not to mention the more tanned parts… in fact… was _that_ the reason why she’d been so reluctant to go to the pool that summer, and then had always come in a one piece?

Flaca made to turn, and Maritza beat a retreat, dropping the T-shirt on the nearest surface.

The scar brought her back months. Back to the underpass, the light… the hospital... _Get a grip, Maritz_ , her fingers tight around the chair’s back.

The _bzzzzz_ was still on, the _dot dot dot_ of the rain continuing into the night.

* * *

“So am I stayin’ here?”

Securely enveloped in her towel, Flaca emerged from the bathroom to find Maritza already in sleepwear, and something prepared for her too.

"Mh?" she turned from where she was perched on the wide windowsill.

The taller girl repeated the question.

“I’m not gonna chauffeur you around in this weather.”

“Chauff _euse_ ,” she singsonged, grabbing the T-shirt.

“¿Qué?”

“Nothing," Flaca went back inside, humming an obscure tune. She was in a good mood.

 _Fuck's sake_ , Maritza thought. _OK Ramos._

She moved and acted, if a bit removed from it all; checked the cupboards for fake milk and found some oat one, that'd do for breakfast. _So… oat milk and then what, oat… flakes? Darn._ She needed to do some grocery shopping; well, there was fruit.

That settled, she got back to the window like a spectator, waiting, looking, and listening. She was still in a slight haze.

And then, not two minutes later she was joined by Flaca.

She scooted over to make some room.

What a rare occasion, her baby in good hands and safe but not there, sis away with friends too, and the house just for herself - and Flaca. Her little world was calm.

They sat there, close but not quite touching, not saying a word, both become quite contemplative.

Hush.

And it rained on.

Rained on the city heavy and loud,

and you couldn't see the buildings opposite, really,

for the water was like a shroud,

rained down on the street

and few cars passing by,

rained on and from up high

they could see it,

on the glass drops and streaks

hit and stained,

and as lamp lights deigned

painted tears on their double's cheeks.

And their gazes met and stopped in the window as if looking at their symmetrical twins out there, suspended, in the downpour.

They breathed shallow, mouths opening up.

And the twins' faces were tender with rain, between the eyelids the eyes were deep bottomless wells; and all life was inside them warm beating; and it rained on the thoughts and feels the soul struggled to keep in, but which the reflection laid bare.

And it rained on…

Hush. -

\- Listen.

...

And on it rained.

...Hush.

 _Sssh_.


End file.
